Unexpected
by Bisexual-Dragons
Summary: Eight years have passed since Mac arrived at Foster's. And lately, nothing interesting has been happening. But hey, what in the world is up with that blob lately? Maybe snooping in the trash wasn't the best idea. MacxBloo. A rewrite.


**Unexpected**

_Eight years have passed since Mac and Bloo arrived at Foster's. And lately, nothing interesting has been happening. But hey, what in the world is up with that blob? Maybe snooping in the trash wasn't the best idea. _

**/ I told you I'd rewrite it. /**

After eight years, Mac realized, routine was a constant in his life.

He didn't even register his surroundings anymore; just continued on his way until the day ended and didn't ask questions. After eight years, Mac didn't change much; a Junior surging his way through high school and destined to become Valedictorian, with the grades he received. Yet, the teen didn't really care for these things - it was expected of him, after all. He just did his work and didn't goof off. He was a good student. The endless praise from his teachers told him so.

His life droned by, without color and without reason. He would get up, eat breakfast, go to school, go to Foster's, and return hours later with no energy left at all. He would then go to bed, to resume the process the next day. It was routine, and it was all Mac knew.

But Foster's was a different story.

When he was at Foster's, he was at home; no absent mother, no colorless furniture, no rainy nights alone. He was surrounded by his friends, his real family - the ones who he knew cared for him most. It was at Foster's where he would laugh and play with Bloo and the gang until sundown without a care in the world. Now, don't get him wrong. Mac knew full well that his mother loved him dearly and everything she did was to benefit him and his lousy brother (who had dropped out of high school and crashed on the couch) and Mac adored and admired her for that, but her constant absence weighed heavily on his mind. Foster's took all those thoughts away.

Bloo took all those thoughts away. And with him, they didn't come back for a long time.

Mac smiled goofily as he thought of his friend, scribbling notes onto his math homework. He sat at his desk, ear phones in his ears as rain pattered and splashed across his window. His lamp glimmered softly next to him. He thought about everything they had done that week; spray painting Madame Foster's car pink, pranking Herriman, eating the other friends out of house and foster home. He didn't realize he was scribbling little drawings of his blob until he focused his sight and looked down. He blushed slightly and erased it, working out an equation over top of the erase marks to conceal them completely.

A half-hour later, he finally finished the persistent worksheet. Standing up to stretch (rather comically) he picked up his work and packed it into his bookbag snugly. He changed into his pajamas and walked back to his bedroom, turning out the light and sliding into bed.

Lying in bed, facing forward, the boy sighed. _Tomorrow is Saturday_, he thought idly as consciousness left him. _I get to go to Foster's all day._

And with that thought, he fell asleep.

* * *

"Tomorrow is Saturday!" A blur of azure swept through the dining hall from corner to corner, whooping excitedly. "Man, it's been like..." He thought for a moment. "A whole week, or something!" He ran past several others, one of those being Frankie, who almost dropped the load of dishes she was carrying.

"Whoa, slow down! I'm loaded here!" She scolded, glaring at the blob. "What's so important about Saturday?" The redhead stumbled, trying to regain her balance as the pile of dishes swayed maliciously.

"Well, nothing especially. But it means Mac can stay the night tomorrow! And I can totally beat his score on _Intergalactic Space Destroyer II_!" He grinned, following the redhead into the kitchen. "He can stay the night, can't he? Of course he can. Thanks, Franks."

Frankie raised an eyebrow. "That's not for me to decide. Go bother- I mean, ask Mr. Herriman. I think he's in his office." And with that, she left the kitchen, probably to get the leftover dishes. Bloo grumbled as he turned around and made his way to Mr. Herriman's office. He passed several Friends on the way but ignored their greetings as he made his way down the endless corridors. He stopped at the enormous doors leading to the rabbit's office.

"I shouldn't even have to ask anymore. He stays over pretty much every Saturday! Who needs permission?" He pulled the blobby hand back that was reaching for the knob and turned back around, striding back and feeling proud about deciding for himself.

Eh, Mr. H wouldn't care anyway, he thought. He entered the large magenta foyer and, in a sudden burst of excitement-induced sleepiness, climbed the stairs to his room. He lazily pushed open the door and was greeted by Wilt, Ed and Coco, who seemed to be getting ready for bed.

"Hola, Azul!"

"Hey, Bloo! What's up?"

"Coco!"

"Mfmbmph." The blob mumbled back, shuffling past them. He jumped onto his bed (with some difficulty; the bed was taller than Bloo) and pulled the covers over himself. He heard the other Imaginaries shuffling, Coco stomping around her nest to get comfortable, the _squeak_ of Eduardo's stuffed rabbit, Paco, and Wilt slipping out of his shoes and socks. He heard the soft _click _of the lights flicking off and Wilt's mumble of "goodnight, you guys", Ed and Coco's replies, and yawned silently as he slowly started to drift off himself.

Intergalactic _Space Destroyer II_ wasn't the only reason Bloo wanted Mac over, not at all. A small red blush sweeping across his cheeks, the Imaginary finally relaxed and fell asleep.

* * *

Waking up at nine AM, as usual, Mac showered, dressed, and readied himself to leave. Fortunately, he was alone; his mother and demonic older sibling Terrence out to visit their grandfather down in Georgia. They would be gone for a whole week. His mother had asked him (quite persistently) if he wanted to join them, but he refused. She had seemed confused, hurt even, but posed no further argument and accepted his decision with a smile. Mac promised to make it up to her.

Still unknown to his mother, Mac couldn't afford to be gone an entire week. He still had a friend to visit each and every day, because if he didn't, he could lose him forever. And he didn't think he could cope with that. Sometimes it frightened him, to be so dependent on his imaginary friend for happiness, but then again, he would reason, he ought to deserve it; his childhood was stolen from him too early. He never had a chance to be a kid, unless he was at Foster's.

As he walked to said mansion, he wondered idly what they would do today. Maybe they would just have a normal day full of snacks and video games. Or maybe, Mac thought, they would have to save Frankie from another lonely Imaginary in some psycho fairytale world.

"Yeah, like we'd ever let that happen again," He chuckled quietly. World had been adopted very quickly after being let out of his chest. Turns out he was actually really sweet when not in solitary confinement.

Pulling his scarf over his mouth, cursing the cold, the boy walked through the black iron gates of Foster's and knocked on the door. He was greeted by a smiling Frankie.

"Hey, bud! Come on in!" She said, holding the door open for him. He grinned back, cheeks rosy from the cold, and walked into the Victorian mansion. He took off his jacket and scarf and laid them on the rack neatly.

"Where's Bloo?" He asked.

"Still sleeping, probably." She grinned mischievously. "I think I have a bullhorn around here somewhere. That'll wake him up." Mac laughed and started up the stairs.

"I'll think on that." Mac's crush on Frankie had slowly but surely deteriorated over the years; he realized his 'romantic' feelings were misjudged for motherly affection and eventually hollowed out as such. She was like an older sister to him. Also, the fourteen-year gap between them would have made anything beyond platonic love pretty awkward.

He opened the door to his friend's room and saw that he was, indeed, still sleeping; his tiny body plastered all over his bed sloppily. Mac smiled. He walked up to his friend, still snoring loudly.

"Bloo? Hey Bloooo," He shook his (shoulder?) gently. "Time to get up." Bloo snored louder. Mac shook him a little harder. "Bloo!"

Still no response. Mac, growing agitated, pushed him over the edge of the bed none too gently. The blob landed on the hardwood floor with a _thump_. Flailing uselessly as he collided, Bloo sputtered and flopped on the floor indignantly. Mac laughed at his creation.

"Hey, what the- Mac? What the heck are you doing here?" The small Imaginary asked, still dazed from sleep. He rubbed his eyes. "It's like.." He glanced at the alarm clock. "Eleven AM!" Mac smiled.

"It's Saturday, remember? I always come early on weekends." He took a seat on Bloo's bed beside him. "Besides," He added, "you'd have just slept when I still got you beat at _Intergalactic Space Destroyer II._" That rallied a reaction out of the blob. Blinking, he shot up. Dazed look transforming into a sinister smirk, he jumped out of bed and ran out of the room with a cry of "not for long!"

Mac ran after him, laughing and shaking his head.

* * *

Turned out that Bloo didn't beat Mac's score after all. Try as he might, the Mega Doom-a-rama machine at the end of the level always killed his ship dead. Mac was still about three hundred points ahead. Frustrated, the blob threw down the controller, glaring at it as if it were a nasty rat or insect. Mac snickered at the immature display.

"It's just a game, you know." He said softly, still smiling. The blob completely ignored him and continued to rant, waving his arms around animatedly as he yelled.

"That stupid thing is so OP! How can anybody ever beat it, _ever?_ I bet nobody in the world has _ever_ beaten it!" He fumed, rolling around in his chair like a spoiled child. "It's too hard!"

"I've beaten it," Mac pointed out. "And so did Wilt, Coco, and even Eduardo." He said. "It's really not that hard."

The blob scoffed. "You guys are cheaters, anyway," He waved a hand dismissively. "I actually work for my success."

"That was the biggest lie ever told." The brunette deadpanned. Bloo ignored him.

Sighing, the teenager watched idly as his creation tried (and failed) repeatedly to beat the level. This would take a while.

* * *

"Yes! I've finally done it! I can't wait to take this to ComicCon this year!" A cackle, a rugged cough following said cackle, and then the sound of buttons being pressed were heard. "And they said it was impossible!"

The figure, a tall, lanky boy around age seventeen, put his pen back in his shirt pocket and triumphantly held up a strange-looking device. It looked sort of like a hand gun, with a sharp point at the tip. A clear capsule lay in the middle, filled with a murky, dark amber substance that looked like maple syrup. The boy held it like a fragile treasure.

"I've finally created a liquid, powerful drug that, if injected, manipulates the cells of Imaginary Friends and creates new, _human_ ones! Soon, merely hours after injection, any Imaginary Friend who was drugged will be Imaginary no more!" He tipped his glasses smartly and cackled again. "It also smells like flowers. Success!"

He looked around the surrounding area, noticing he was walking down a really shady-looking alley. "Hm...but who to test it on?" Thinking about any possible side effects, it would be wise to find a willing test subject before revealing his _amazing_ invention to the public. A bunch of horrific, mutated and monstrous Imaginaries running rampant would _not_ look good on his part.

Somewhere down the alley, a sharp sound was heard. The boy jumped. Another, sounding much closer, barked in response. Two howls, and the sound of paws. Stray dogs.

"Oh no." The sounds got closer; it seemed like they were gaining in numbers. The teenager panicked and gripped his gun. "Oh _Celestia!" _

The dogs rounded the corner, right in front of him. There were seven of them, all looking rabid and...

Starved.

With hungry, menacing growls, the dogs approached the frightened boy. Said teenager screamed and dropped the gun, turning on his heel and running as fast as he could.

"Not the dogs! _Please, anything but the doooogs!" _He shrieked as the hungry canines barked and followed after in hot pursuit. The gun, long forgotten, rested on the alleyway floor, the liquid inside glimmering innocently.

* * *

**/ This was the first chapter. There's more to come soon. Like I said before, the same basic plot and pairings apply, I'm just adding improvements. Until next time, guys! / **


End file.
